Once there was a business man, And he was wondrous wise; Said he: "We'll save the money It takes to advertise.
We've got the business going, We'll sit and take the kale.
Why squander cash for printing? Our income cannot fail."
Things prospered for a season, And prospects rosy grew.
Then sales began to dwindle; The Why? Nobody knew.
The boss was fretful, worried, His face grew pale and drawn. The business "kept on going"—Going—now it gone.
Senator Soaper Says—"Backwarp, turn backward, O time, in your flight," sang the poet, who ought to be here to get a load of Europe in the middle ages.
Along with the dodo and last year's millinery goes the card that British diplomacy formerly had up the sleeve, His fierce hostility to the Jew suggests the Arab brother may be preparing to join the growing Nordic family (high brown division).
Though cast aside by heiresses, socked by show girls and picked up by police, Jack Doyle, the Irish thrush, still holds the head high, All is lost save publicity.
With the bars down on dunking, a new freedom comes over table etiquette. Any hour now an O. K. is looked for on wring out the grapefruit into a spoon, ne would want to know more about sur-gory's triumph in grafting rabbits eyes into humans, Do they light up at the thought of lettuce?
Through a misprint, New England is listed in a department of commerce bulletin among foreign lands. We trust this is the last of the Maine-Vermont gags.
In Dorchester, Quebec. a man pulled down a six-room house in nine days. Even then it is not clear that he found the sports section of the newspaper.
A writing explorer cites a south sea isle with 50 years of unbroken prosperity. We should have to see the freight car loading figures to believe this.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.